


Dust in the Air

by Setyourlazerstopew



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Character Death, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Tumblr Prompt, he's dead jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-11-20 18:11:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11340693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setyourlazerstopew/pseuds/Setyourlazerstopew
Summary: “Are you okay McCree, why did you call?”“Me, darlin'? I think anyone would feel better after hearing your dulcet tones.” His face relaxes, smile more real now. He deliberately doesn't answer the second question.He can almost hear the small dawn of a smile on Hanzo’s face as he teases back, “If you spoke less often you might hear more of it.”From the tumblr prompt:Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.





	1. Don't Rain on his Parade

‘Well, this is ain’t exactly the place I’d imagined it but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.’ McCree thinks sluggishly. The dumpsters hiding him from the mouth of the alleyway cast a long shadow which hug his form. He tilts his head back, wincing as the movement jostles his injuries. 

After all he’d been through it was a mugger, a plain old mugger who got the drop on him. 

He’d chuckle to himself if he had any energy. How pathetic.

He feels the adrenaline in his system rapidly slip away, his body no longer interested in either fight or flight. As he slides down the dumpster he fell against in a heap, a trail of blood follows. 

Even in the haze of blood loss and stabbing pain in his side, he could appreciate the skill of his attacker; Not only shooting Peacekeeper out of his hands, but succeeding on sneaking up on him on the first place. Shameful really, being caught by surprise like that. No matter how seldom it happens, It only takes the once for it to stick.

‘Well, I’m paying for it now at any rate.’ He thinks remorsefully as he inches his hand to the pocket in his trousers. 

A slightly battered phone clatters to the ground beside him.

He glares balefully at it lying just outside of his reach. He leans over, overestimating his capability to do so with an injury, and the ground rises to meet him. 

Lying on the ground with a growing pain in his temple, he loses track of time. 

Squinting his eyes open despite the pain he can see his phone taunting him, glinting in the low light. He stretches out an arm and pulls it to him as he heaves himself onto his back. With increasingly shallow breaths, he searches his contacts.

No one’s going to find him in time for saving, better make this call count. Better not to die alone. McCree looks up at the hardly visible stars above, well physically alone but hopefully not in spirit. 

His fingers find the call button and the dial tone rings mechanically, echoing in the alleyway, heralding something to come. He doesn’t hold much hope in it being answered. Just when that thought crosses his mind the dial tone clicks. 

“McCree.” A tired voice answers. 

“Hanzo, just the man I wanted to hear,” McCree injects some enthusiasm he’s dredged up from the the bottom of his boots, “How’s it going?” 

“It’s 4am McCree.” McCree can see Hanzo’s deadpan expression in his mind’s eye. 

“So it is! Sure crazy how time flies, right?” He forces a grin. You can hear a smile on a voice.

“Yes,” McCree can hear the confusion in that single word as Hanzo hesitates before speaking again, “Are you okay McCree, why did you call?” 

“Me, darlin'? I think anyone would feel better after hearing your dulcet tones.” His face relaxes, smile more real now. He deliberately doesn't answer the second question. 

He can almost hear the small dawn of a smile on Hanzo’s face as he teases back, “If you spoke less often you might hear more of it.”

He was becoming more lightheaded with every second.

“Honey bunch, that sounds like a swell plan. Might have to get a rain check on it though.”

“Why, what are you doing up at this hour?”

“Oh you know how it is, stomach gets the munchies so a walk down to the grocery store for a midnight snack seems… like a good idea.” McCree finishes the sentence in a rush of breath as he closes while a flash of intense pain courses through him. 

“It’s unwise to venture out alone at this time of night, McCree.” He can hear the worried note in Hanzo’s voice.

“Aww darlin’, I know I asked for a rain check but you don’t have to rain on my parade.”

He can hear Hanzo pause to himself, “But I’m not raining on anybodies parade.”

“Don’t worry yourself, s’just a saying.”

“... English is a strange language.” Hanzo mutters to himself. McCree’s going to miss this, easy conversation. Everything is taking a dreamlike quality, feels like his thoughts are wading through water. 

“Hey Hanzo,” McCree’s voice is soft now, breathy. Time’s running out. “You know my ma always told me to live without regrets, though I have quite a few I don’t want this to be one of them,” He took as large a breath as he could before soldiering on, “Hanzo, do you wanna go out to dinner some time, just you and me?” If he had any energy left he would be tense, waiting for the answer.

There was silence on the other end for a moment. “I’d like that, yes.” McCree closed his eyes, small grin forming. 

“You can introduce me to some of your ridiculous American foods.” McCree could hear Hanzo’s smile at the last part. 

A pained chuckle surfaces and turns into a watery cough, Hanzo takes in a breath on the other side of the line.

“That does not sound very good, are you unwell McCree? Do you need any assistance…” 

“NO, no, I’m fine jus’ the dust in the air getting to me. Maybe it’s the cigars… anyway,” McCree reigns in his panic, he’s going to have to wrap this up now while he can, “I’m getting close to the base now, sorry for calling so late.” He could hear a stifled yawn through the phone as he closed his eyes, hand sliding down his face slowly.

“I do not mind, this time.” His voice is fading into the black, “Good night McCree.” 

“Night Darlin’”

The phone drops before the call cuts out.


	2. The Last to Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath.

Hanzo hears the clank on the other side of the call and huffs to himself, McCree always had a reputation for being quite hard handed with his devices. 

He hangs up assuming that he had just dropped his phone by accident and doesn’t think any more of it.

Falling back into his bed and throwing his arm over his face he slowly grins to himself as he reflects on the early call. Dinner with McCree, now that’s something to look forward to. 

He realises with a start that they hadn’t specified a time for it. Mentally shrugging, he decides that it is not a big problem and that it’s too early to be thinking about that so, with this mindset, he slips back into sleep easily.

Despite his easy descent into dreams, Hanzo does not sleep well. He wakes himself up a few times with his tossing and turning but manages to get a couple more hours before a sudden storm of feet thundering down the hallway outside jolts him awake.

Blinking groggily to himself he stares balefully at the ceiling. He remembers back to last nights soft conversation with McCree and feels a little lighter before a cold waves strikes him. Where are people running to… or from?

There was no alarm sounded, so it isn’t anything urgent Hanzo reminds himself. He heaves himself up and winces, hand reaching up to rub his stiff neck. He must have slept on it strangely. 

‘As much as I enjoyed McCree’s call last night,’ He thinks to himself ruefully, ‘I would have also enjoyed a proper night's sleep.’ A wry smile winds up on his face for a moment before he realises that the commotion outside has died down. He looks over to the door as if it will reveal what is going on. 

The silence now presses into his skin as Hanzo gets up and throws on some clothes. He makes his way down the hallway, subtly looking around corners trying to discern what happened to cause such an outburst of footsteps.

In the oppressive silence he feels like his footsteps should echo as he walks quickly towards the mess hall, surely someone will be there to clue him in.

The mess hall is usually full of loud, cheerful chatter as people congregate to catch up on the day's gossip and, in the case of the younger ones, play video games, but as he enters the room it doesn’t reflect this kind of atmosphere.

Suspicious of the quiet he steps into the doorway of the mess hall and immediately notices a crowd of people around someone in the centre of the room. Not one person has a smile on their face. And Hanzo doesn’t see Jesse.

Hanzo’s stomach drops suddenly as the implications of this takes it’s hold. He notices Genji amongst all of the grim faces and takes a light step forward despite himself, but then stops once his brain catches up with what he is seeing.

Hanzo has never needed to see Genji’s expression to know how he's feeling, his brother had always had trouble concealing body language cues and now, Hanzo notes with unusual detachment, his whole being radiates defeat. 

He is slumped over, head bowed with his hands hanging down by his sides. Hanzo’s throat closes up as Genji’s head rises and makes eye contact with him. He hasn’t seen his brother this despondent looking since… well… he swallows thickly while pushing down that thought.

The crowd parts slightly as they notice him just inside the door, leaving a path to the centre where Hanzo sees a ragged cowboys hat… and Hanzo freezes.

Words begin to filter down through Hanzo's frozen stature, but he only hears a scattered few. The most important few.

“He was found early this morning…”

“... on his way back… attacked…”

“He put up a good fight.”

And with that last line echoing through his mind he breaks free and looks around helplessly. 

Where’s Jesse?

Hanzo eyes meet Genji in his search and Genji takes a stilted step towards him reaching out slightly with one hand while shaking his head. 

Of course, McCree and Genji had been friends before Hanzo came along, he wouldn’t be this despairing if it hadn’t had any truth to it.

So it is true.

Hanzo stumbles back out the door in a few halting steps, eyes still on Genji, mouthing ‘No.’ over and over again. He flees.

His mind is still repeating that single word in his head, muffling out reality as his feet bring him to an empty room. He staggers to a corner, drops down, and hugs his legs to his chest breathing heavily. It can’t be true. It _can’t_ be true. 

His hands grasp his head as his inner thoughts are just a mesh of _‘he’sgonehe’sgonehe’sgone’_.

A cold wave of clarity falls upon him when he realises that _he_ must have been the last one to speak to him. He could have helped. He could have stopped it. 

‘It’s my fault. It’s my fault. **IT’S MY FAULT.** ’

A light hand on his shoulder startles him out of his litany. He jumps back to the wall, almost getting whiplash from the speed at which his head looks up.

Genji is standing in front of him, looking almost as startled as Hanzo feels with his hands jumping up to the universal ‘I mean no harm’ gesture.

Hanzo relaxes slightly but remains stiff and hunched together as Genji lowers himself to sit beside him.

They sit in silence for a while as Genji slowly inches closer until they are almost leaning on each other.

Words swell up in Hanzo and they escape in a small breathy whisper.

“He called me last night…” Genji doesn’t move but Hanzo can feel his alertness in the air. 

“He might have been bleeding out and I didn’t _notice_...” He finishes his sentence with a choked up voice, “How could I not notice?” Hanzo doesn’t look up at Genji as his voice trails off.

There’s a long silence.

“He must have gained some comfort from your voice.” Despite his tight voice, there is a measured softness in this sentence. Hanzo can’t take comfort from this thought yet.

“But why didn’t he say anything?” Hanzo is working himself up now, “Why didn’t he say anything!? It makes no sense!” He is gripping his hair now, “Was it pride? Yes, it might have been a good fight… but what use is a good fight if you don't come back alive!?” 

Hanzo goes to punch the ground where he is but pull back at the last second deflating after his outburst, all his energy leaving in an exhale.

“The mind works in mysterious ways when the end draws near.” Genji responds mildly, trying to be comforting in his own way, and Hanzo thinks on how this may be from Genji’s own experiences. He swallows thickly, this can’t be easy for him either and here he is trying to comfort Hanzo despite that.

Hanzo retreats into himself and feels everything drift away. All that he can think of now is how the people closest to him seem to die, with him having the opportunity to save them and failing. 

Maybe he’s cursed. 

Maybe he is the curse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Macaroon001 who prompted this, maybe not exactly what you had in mind but... :P  
> Angst all the way!
> 
> Definitely not doing another chapter though, and I'm prescribing myself some happy fluff fics now to cleanse myself.
> 
> Enjoy! R&R please. :)))

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is the first fic I've ever written.  
> Really thought it would have been Harry Potter that I took the dive for but it turns out Overwatch got me first somehow.  
> Anyway I'm assuming you read it, hope you liked. Thanks :)
> 
> From the tumblr prompt 
> 
>  
> 
> [Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.](http://otpdisaster.tumblr.com/post/110731939970/person-b-knowing-theyre-undoubtedly-about-to-die)


End file.
